Obscure Layton Pairings
by all-hail-queen-ga'ran
Summary: Oneshots of ships that I feel don't get enough love from the fandom. Chapter 1: Layton & Flora


**These two are my Layton OTP, which I have named "FloLay". They are a beautiful couple who just happen to be slightly controversial. If you don't like age gaps, don't read this. FYI: Flora is 17 years old in this story.**

"Hey, Professor."

Layton's head snapped up at the greeting. He was particularly on edge today. He had spent the day preparing his students for a rigorous course of mock exams, and was now sitting at his desk, marking the essays he'd had them do for practise.

Seeing Flora in the doorway, his features stretched into a long grin. Her greeting had been so nonchalant, so final, despite what he suspected she had come there to do.

"Hello, Flora."

She bounced off the ball of one of her bare feet, launching into a lilting walk. Idly, she walked down the back wall of the office, followed by a hungry, dark gaze. His eyes travelled up the lengths of her smooth legs, which were bare apart from the short, pale pink sundress she wore. He sighed softly, picturing the times those legs had been wrapped around his waist, clenching her body to his.

The two of them had been romantically involved for three months now. Ever since Luke had left, things had been tense. Layton had tried to ignore the advances of his protégé, - she was only a girl after all - but one quiet Autumn night, Flora had leaned and kissed him. One thing led to another, and neither of them wanted to turn back. Despite the passion shared between them, the age difference between the pair was apparent; some days, Flora was a daughter to Layton, other day, she was a lover.

This day in particular fell into the latter category.

Flora turned, walking towards him now. Lazily, she trailed her finger along one of Layton's cluttered shelves, quietly humming to herself. He could see the side of her now: her thin arms unhidden by the straps of her dress, and the bump of her small breasts. His hands itched with the memory of those breasts hardening as he stroked them, and the breathy moans that came with the action.

"Are you bored, my dear?" Layton asked, a suggestive question present in his voice, hidden within a certain tone only known to the two of them. Flora nodded, her gaze occupied with a collection of seashells sitting on the window sill.

"Mmhmm," she replied. She would often do this, act indifferent just to tease him. Layton had to hand it to her: for her seventeen years, Flora knew exactly how to make him want her. Her eyes rested on him, flinching away after a split second. She was thinking about something, trying to make a decision. Layton knew her well enough to tell.

"Why don't you come over here, my girl?" His voice had dropped to sensual tone, betraying the urgency of his desire. Flora straightened at the change in atmosphere.

She started towards his desk, a sway in her hips now, feet skipping as she walked in a childlike rhythm. Layton let out a small moan as he got a frontal view of her braless chest, the outline of her breasts clearly visible through only thin linen. She had the look a nymph, he thought, simply and naturally beautiful. Perhaps another man would see her as childish and dishevelled, clumsy in her attempts at sophistication. To Layton, the imperfections of the budding lady were enchanting; each out-of-place tendril of hair more beautiful than any mature, groomed woman.

She stopped at his side, and he looked up at her. Her eyes were sparkling with mischief, the rest of her features following suit, contorting into a vixen smirk.

"What _are_ you up to now?" Layton growled as she snaked a leg around his waist, slipping into his lap. This feeling of how small and how light she was was frightening to him; one wrong move and he could break her. At the same time, it was absolutely intoxicating, beauty and beast separated by only thin cloth, waiting and longing to merge.

Flora adjusted herself astride his legs, and he felt the warmth of her press against him. He grunted as his trousers began to feel tight. She shuffled forward, settling on top of his crotch. She breathed in sharply as she felt him hard beneath her, and began to slowly rock back and forth, pushing against his erection in rhythmic motions. Layton felt heat creep from his crotch to the rest of his body, overwhelming him with pure lust for the girl on top of him. This was a game to her, a wicked game, an exercise of her power over him. He decided to play along.

"Oh, Flora," Layton teased. "A true lady never keeps a gentleman waiting." Flora grinned, her huge dark eyes shining. "Especially when she knows how it _tortures_ him."

"You're waiting for nothing, Professor," she said, her voice low and sultry, "I'm _right_ _here_ , after all."

She reached her arms behind her head and swiftly untied her ribbon, allowing her thick hair to swing out and frame her face. Layton stared in awe of her beauty, sharing her intense gaze. Without breaking eye contact, she leaned in and kissed him, sloppily moving her lips along his.

Flora's kisses were always raw with lack of experience. She never closed her eyes, and pressed Layton's mouth hard, fiercely battling his tongue with her own. He loved her kisses. They were not refined or careful, as an older woman's kisses would be. Instead, they were pure statements of her passion: whatever she felt she wanted to do, she would do.

Layton reached up and cupped Flora's breasts through her dress, his thumbs stroking over her hardened nipples. Her breath hitched, and she moaned into his mouth. He could feel her soft skin underneath the fabric, the shape of her breasts perfectly fit to the bends and lines of his ageing hands, young and warm beneath them.

Flora's gripped Layton's leg as her hips bucked against his growing erection, her fingers creeping further and further up. Just as Layton was ready to explode, she broke away, clambering off of his lap.

"Where are you going, Flora?" he exclaimed, still panting from their kiss.

"Upstairs," she said, as nonchalant as when she arrived. Layton laughed internally.

"Flora, that is most unladylike," he teased, "getting me all worked up like that."

Flora smiled, happy with herself. "Maybe so, Professor. But there's plenty of things _you_ do that are _not_ in the image of a true gentleman."

"Is that so?"

Flora nodded. "You're gonna have to wait till you're done working to _really_ let loose." She winked, and skipped out of the door.

Layton grunted in frustration. His balls were aching, and his erection was huge and throbbing, and there was no Flora there to satisfy him. _The things he was going to do to that girl when he got to her..._ Layton moaned just imagining the positions he would take her from, ramming into the delicate girl with all his strength. He suspected that this train of thought was exactly what Flora had planned for him.

He unbuttoned his trousers and reached into his boxers, lightly stroking his shaft up and down as he fantasised. This would result in a mediocre release, but it was not what Layton _really_ wanted. What he wanted was on her way upstairs right now...and there was nothing stopping him from joining her.

Layton had finished marking most of the essays, so he rose from his chair and reached for his hat, panicking briefly as he did not find it. He had not worn his hat since the day Claire left him for the second time, fading away in front of his very eyes into brilliant light. After that day, he needed something to change, to move on into a new chapter of his life. The hat now stayed on his bedside table, a nightly reminder of the love he'd shared with Claire.

Rather than make him feel guilty about being with Flora, the memory of Claire made his feelings even more intense. Claire had always been passionate and loving. Layton knew that wherever she was, she was happy that he was sharing his love with someone. He would want the same for her.

Layton paused outside the bedroom door, exasperated. The soft sounds of Flora's humming to herself echoed from inside; Layton closed his eyes to savour it, his head swimming with affection for the girl. After a minute or so, he quietly turned the handle and slipped inside.

Flora, who had not noticed his entrance, was lying on the bed, idly leafing through one of her teenage magazines. Her long legs were kicking back and forth in the air behind her, one dainty foot twirling circles around the other. Layton watched her for a few seconds before clearing his throat.

"You really couldn't wait, hmm?" Flora said, not looking up at Layton.

"Oh, no, no, no, my girl," Layton teased, "patience is a virtue I prize most highly. I simply came up here to check on you. You seemed very...direct in your passion earlier, and I wanted to see whether you required any more from me." Flora turned her head, a spark in her eye. "After all," Layton continued, "a true gentleman always puts a lady's needs first." Flora crawled towards Layton on the bed, allowing him an almost full view of her breasts. She stopped at the end of the bed, settling on her knees and studying him. Layton walked forward, closing the rest of the space between them. He locked eyes with the girl.

"Do you need me, Flora?" Layton asked. Flora paused. Layton touched the middle of her chest with his finger, lightly trailing it down between her breasts and along her stomach. Her breathing shallowed and her cheeks flushed red; her mask of indifference was breaking. Layton's mask was breaking, too; he wanted her badly and was barely managing not to take her right at that moment.

"Yes," she said, almost panting. "I need you, Professor." She hardly finished the words before Layton attacked her mouth with his, his lips and tongue working hungrily at hers. Layton sank into bliss as Flora moaned, relaxing into him as she countered his movements. He could not hold back now.

He pushed her backwards onto the bed. His hands ravaged her sides, feeling every inch and curve of her soft, childlike figure. Flora returned the action, reaching under Layton's sweater and feeling the subtle tone of his muscles. Layton went faint at the feeling of her hands; her slender fingers were like an angel's touch on his skin. She pulled the sweater over his head and threw it on the floor. She paused, lips parted, studying his physique with hungry eyes, her gaze almost predatory.

Layton bent down and kissed her again as he all but tore her dress off her body. He tossed the thin fabric aside and took in the sight underneath him. Flora's body was covered only by her simple white panties. Layton's eyes raked over her slender thighs, her round breasts and small pink nipples before resting on her soft belly. As much as Flora herself disliked it, he loved her belly. It added a cherubic quality to her otherwise waiflike body. He lowered himself down to kiss her there, his face brushing against her soft skin and pushing into the layer of puppy fat she still carried there.

Impatient, Flora reached for the button of Layton's trousers, swiftly unfastening them and pulling them down. Layton quickly kicked them onto the floor. His erection was rock hard and throbbing now, bursting to be free of his tight boxers. He pushed them down, sighing at the contact with cool air. Flora began to stroke his shaft with her fingertips, prompting a gasp from Layton. She smiled at his response to her touch.

Desperate for her now, Layton yanked Flora's panties off and pulled her legs to either side of him. He paused for a second, searching her face for any sign of hesitation. An eagerness that matched his met his smiled back at him. With a grunt, he thrust inside her, earning a high pitched moan. He thrust harder and deeper, completely lost in the ecstasy of being inside Flora, connected to her in the closest way, her walls exquisitely tight, almost too small to accommodate him.

Flora arched her hips, bucking them with the rhythm, driving him as deep inside her as possible. Her moans had stopped now, and she was silent, eyes almost rolling back in pleasure, her apple birthmark glowing dark on her collarbone.

Sex had never been as good for Layton as it was with Flora. Her unrefined, unashamed passion was refreshing in a life of polite company, quaint pursuits and gentlemanly airs. He was so used to keeping to himself, but while Flora lay underneath him, he ruled her like he had never ruled anyone.

Layton felt himself nearing his climax, becoming more passionate by the second. He grabbed Flora's hips and pulled them to his with every thrust, burying himself even deeper inside her. His movements became rougher, ramming into Flora with all his strength. She moaned as she orgasmed, the sound almost becoming a whimper of pain. Layton felt her clench ever tighter around him as her body shivered in pleasure.

Layton was now on the very edge, and grunted softly with each thrust. The pressure inside him built, becoming almost unbearable. With an almighty grunt, he came, exploding into Flora's body. He stayed inside her for a few moments, in a haze of euphoria, making sure every drop of his load got into her before laying down on the bed.

After a moment of recovery, Flora shuffled over to Layton and curled up to him, her head resting in the crook of his shoulder.

"How was that, my dear?" Layton asked, gently stroking her hair.

"Amazing," Flora answered. "Professor?"

"Yes, my dear?"

"Can we stay here?" she asked, "I just wanna lie here with you." She barely managed to get the words out before her eyes fluttered shut, and her head rolled limp against Layton's chest.

"Of course, my darling," he whispered. He glanced down at his lover, relaxed into him like a sleeping child. Her cheeks were flushed, and her birthmark glowed with her contentment. His fluids trickled out between her legs, the reminder of a life that they may have created together. Layton smiled at the beauty of the image of her: she trusted him like a child, she loved him like a woman, and he would love her for as long as he lived.

"I would lie here _forever_ with you, my dear girl."


End file.
